


Of Monsters and Men

by orphan_account



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Dib is a good boyfriend, Established Relationship, Gir is baby, Guess who read Frankenstein again, Inspired by Frankenstein, M/M, Paranormal, Werewolves, ZaDr, Zim is fashionable in this, Zim is so in love, and watched the Addams Family movies, makeup game strong, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 09:44:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21251369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: AU where Dib is Frankenstein’s creation and is given a mate by his creator, Professor Membrane.





	Of Monsters and Men

The house is desolate of light. No matter where one goes, an unknown void greets them. Only one room has the slightest ounce of light; the master bedroom. Slivers of sunlight pierce through the space between black curtains in this room. The rays do not travel far except for one that rests upon a sunken green cheek. With one glance, death is the first word that comes to mind. A rotten color covers every inch of skin. Stitches, which are spaced exactly one centimeter apart, run from the mouth down to the feet. Wherever there is a joint, a ring of thread ties the skin together. His frame is far too lithe. Holding up a finger obscures his entire body. It is safe to say he holds few, if any, organs. That explains the ‘T’ shaped stitch from his chest down to his navel. His eyes sink deep into black holes. A mystery how both still reside after so many years. The only change is the lack of white from blood vessels breaking. A strange yet beautiful pink color overcame his eyes and pupils. Only a far too close look allows for one to see what remains of his irises. For now, he slumbers in an ancient bed with enough sentimental value to be kept passed its replacement date. So many wondrous memories clawed their way into the fabric. Sweet words whispered late at night lay hidden within the feathers. Astonishing how the mattress has yet to give out. Much like the man that lies upon it, in a way. His black hair contrasts the white streaks on the left side. The pure hair matches his most favored outfit despite his ghastly appearance. A symbol of life and holiness dons a being of death and decay. He inhales the familiar scent in the oversized shirt enveloping him. A smile creeps onto his stoic face. 

Down the hall of creaking floors, a figure approaches the master bedroom. Tall and pale, he is a mere three inches from grazing the ceiling. Every footstep is accompanied by a soft groan from the floor. His walk is awkward as he swings his legs to avoid certain boards. They bring the loudest cries. Where the sleeping man is thin, his counter holds a larger frame. Although not the strongest or stockiest, his build is more of a column. The stitches across his body are a tad less than perfect. Some are a space too big or too small, and a few are crooked. Regardless, he holds together just as well as the other. He retains his white eyes with only a slight gray tint. Brown irises hide his pupils unless they meet a bright light. A slow hand pushes the whining door open, stopping just before a scream can escape the hinges. He stands before the man without a single disturbance to his slumber. How lovely it is to own carpet. 

“Nap time’s over, Zim. It’s date night.” His ghost white hand decorated in black threads caresses Zim’s left cheek. There is a groan, and he turns his body away from his lover. Typical. Zim never was a fan of the daytime. Too harsh for his eyes. Now, the moon is perfect. A soft glow illuminating a world he can admire without strain. Stargazing had never been so romantic until their third date. Watching how pink eyes reflected cosmic dust scattered across a black canvas made his heart throb. Every word shared melted into the stars above. No horrific sun glaring at their affections. No city lights cutting their moments short. Just two lovers laying beneath a gentle moon and glittering stars. The pale man wiggles out of his shoes and lays his chilled body besides his mate. 

“Come on, pretty boy. I know you’re awake.” Zim shifts his face to give a smile that is almost unseen. Oh, how memories surge the mind with incredible feelings. Bounds of an emotion that makes Zim want to squirm with a wide grin. He feels his stomach knot and flip at each memory. He feels a pounding against his remaining ribs. Be still he commands. How swift it is ignored when another memory arises. His eyes open to a sight that laughs at the very foundations of nature. A once rotten cadaver now smiling with black gums and cracked lips. What most cower away from is his definition of love. 

“I’m awake, Dib-mate. Don’t leave Zim alone when he sleeps. It’s far too cold.” Not that temperature bothers him now. Whether submerged in Arctic waters or tossed onto a metal sheet in the desert sands, he never complains. A steady 55 degrees wards off scorching summers and ice riddled winters. His green hand presses to Dib’s depressing heartbeat. He counts each monotone bump that kisses his palm as he awaits the response. Only twenty beats after a minute. A larger hand lays on top of his own. Such cold skin for a man that gives Zim the warmest love. 

“Yes, dear. Now, get changed. I’ll be waiting for you in the kitchen.” Dib sits up from the bed, still clasping Zim’s hand in his own. Finally rising from slumber, he stretches until several unnatural pops come from his joints. Two sounded similar to a pencil breaking while the rest were marbles knocking together. Zim struts away into the walk-in closet with a quick glance to Dib’s outfit. He cannot place when that tux was worn last, but the pristine fabric tells him enough. Zim raises the collar of the shirt to his face and takes a soft inhale. So much comfort in a worn to death hand me down. Dib notices how his shirt is far from fitting his boyfriend. It reaches down to his thighs with no hint to Zim’s shape whatsoever. The long sleeves hide his hands unless rolled back a few inches. So cute. Pity to his weak, lovestruck heart. Dib leaves the room before he can be overcome by the sweltering heat in his chest. As he descends the staircase, he smooths his tie for the fifth time that day. Always something wrong whenever Dib puts effort dressing. He reaches into his pocket and grazes his fingers against the gift he prepared. It took him some time, but the perfect gift needs extra attention. 

Dib leans against the kitchen counter until he hears light footsteps against the loud wood. He takes a quick second to run a hand through his hair and fix his undercut. Zim takes pride in perfection, but his standards certainly sank when he fell for Dib. What he sees is a mystery. A shadow rises against the white wall, and the anxiety makes a finger pick at a stitch. At the sight of his boyfriend, Dib falls into a pit of love and worship once again. 

“How do I look, Dib-love?” Taking pride in perfection is no lie. Everything about Zim shows the amount of attention put into him. His black hair is mused to give it flare without overwhelming the strands with products. Black and gray eyeshadow shimmers against the normal green. The last time Zim used his glittery makeup was for their first date. A gentle, silver highlight dusts over his cheekbones. Nothing too extreme to draw the eyes, but a subtle hint that is caught at the slightest angle. Blood red makeup defines his lips. The perfect color for someone as dangerous yet seductive as Zim. A gray collar with black roses stitched into it curls back much like the ones seen on a vampire’s cape. The white dress connected fits snug against his lithe body. From the slight curve in his torso to the jut in his hips, little is left for the imagination. A dopey smile comes to Dib’s face. 

“As beautiful as the day I first laid eyes on your assembled corpse.” If Zim was alive, hischeeks would be a deep rosy color. He lets a grin play across his face and takes a few steps to his boyfriend. Dib’s face rests in black, gloved hands as a chaste kiss is pressed to his nose. Even in heels, Zim needs to perch onto his toes to reach his lover. Dib nuzzles into the soft fabric until a pointed nail runs against his neck. His rabid heart and weak knees go far from being unnoticed. 

“Oh, you’re such a flirt.” Their bodies press closer. Dib leans back until an arm wraps around and pulls him in close. At this point, his legs are moments away from collapsing. Zim curls a finger in Dib’s slick hair and lets out a giggle. His lace clad nails run down Dib’s jaw before he pulls away.

“You don’t have much room to talk.” Dib takes Zim’s hands into his own and lowers himself. He plants a kiss onto his protected knuckles and catches sight of him swooning. Zim whips his head to the side with a pout, hoping to hide the lovestruck look. Dib stands yet keeps a firm hold on the delicate hands enveloped by his own. 

“What do you have planned for our free evening?” Zim pulls his hands free to cross his arms over his chest. He takes a seat at the kitchen table and places his left leg over his right. Dib brushes his hand against his pocket once more before placing it at his side. Not yet. He has to keep his mouth shut as long as possible. 

“You’ll find out, space boy. Be patient.” A loud whine comes from the man. Dib laughs as Zim is thrown into one of his fits. Long ago, they annoyed him to no end. Every groan, cry, and huff had him ready to snap. However, he has learned to love the little acts after an enlightenment from his father. Zim’s creation brought him with an infantile mindset, so tantrums were all he knew. All it took was some work and enough dedication to guide him. Now, they have no bite and end within minutes. 

“I can’t do that! It’s like you don’t even know me.” Zim turns his head away with a loud sigh. He squirms in his seat to get the much needed attention from his loving boyfriend. Dib leans down to press a kiss to Zim’s ripped off ear. Gir had yanked too hard when playing, and the piece has been missing since. Even after several inspections under couches and behind doors, it still remains missing. At this point, Dib might as well just call his father and request a surgery. 

“Zim, my father created you for me. I know every last detail about you.” The statement is quite accurate. Dib had handpicked both halves of Zim’s brain during construction. His left side came from an engineer that led the student body in his university. On the right, an art student snatched at the age of 19. Life cut short when a truck hit black ice and swerved onto his campus. Two opposing sides working to give life another chance. 

“Liar. What am I thinking of right now?” Zim always envied Dib in a way. Details depicting Zim’s entire person had been chosen by Dib. Days of rewriting the personality in his brain was no easy task. His father’s anger reached a breaking point when several thousand neurons refused to activate. Every strength, weakness, like, and dislike all scribbled down in four separate notebooks. The hours spent memorizing each detail was painful, but a challenge never stopped Dib. 

“How much you want me to kiss you.” Their lips meet with enough heat to start a fire. Zim wraps a mindful arm around Dib’s stitched neck as a tongue presses against his red lips. A hand fumbles between them before placing itself on Zim’s waist. A few moans slip out along with the occasional giggle from the overwhelming love. With each attempt Zim makes to break away, Dib only gets closer. After a hard push to the chest, they separate with a string of saliva connecting their lips. 

“Can we leave the house before you ruin my makeup? It’s not everyday I put in this much effort.” Zim grins at the bloody kiss that marks Dib as a taken man. Messy stains that Zim is overjoyed to leave on his lifeless lips. What he would give to mark other spots. If the date goes as per usual, his wish will be granted. 

“Let go and we can.” Dib takes a glance to the gloved arm still hanging onto his neck. God, does he love the black fabric rubbing against him. Widow gloves as he calls them. The lace decorates the back of Zim’s hand and forearm with roses strangling each other. Vines twist in agony as they choke one another for their own selfish survival. Someone has died with those gloves wrapped around their neck. Dib has no true evidence, but something about Zim wearing those gloves labels him as a murderous widow. They excite Dib far too much. 

“I’ll let go when you let go.” Zim tightens his hold on Dib with a light laugh. Their cat and mouse days ended long ago, but the fun never died. Months of one chasing the other out of aggression changed into a hunt out of lust. In the past, the men would switch their roles just for the sake of fun. Now, Zim accepts his position as mouse with eagerness. All he has to do is begin his set up and wait for Dib to hunt him down. The thought sent shivers down his spine. All alone in this rickety house in the abandon that is the countryside with no one to help. The nightmare of many, but a tasteful dream for Zim. Out of the blue, with no preparation whatsoever, there is a slam. Jolting from their position, which caused their heads to bang, they turn to the backdoor. It swings open to the sight of Gir, mud, and a wriggling hog. 

“Masters! I got a piggy!” Gir kicks the door closed before racing around the kitchen with his pet. A bloodcurdling shriek escapes Zim. It leaves a ringing in Dib’s ears as he steps back with hands clutching his head. The squealing hog overpowers the shrill laughter from Gir. Mud smears across the floor and legs of the table as Gir squeezes himself under a dining chair. Zim jumps to the stairs with his hands clenching his white dress. He wobbles with unsteadiness as his heels avoid muddy footprints with loud clacks. 

“No! Bad werewolf! Get that grotesque creature out of my house!” Gir bolts to the stairs, which has Zim climbing onto the kitchen counter. He rolls his dress up to his knees with his back pressing against a window. Had the latch not been locked, Zim would tumble out and into a cushion of thorn coated roses. Dib removes his black coat, tossing onto the kitchen table. His approach is slow in order to confine Gir into a corner of the kitchen. 

“Give me the pig, Gir.” He holds his hands out, but the hound growls. His eyes narrow with curled lips to reveal vicious fangs. The threads running over Dib’s wrists are tightened. No way can he repeat last week’s incident. Not after the hour long bath he had to give his saliva dripping, stomach acid soaked right hand. So much filth. So much he wants to forget. 

“My pig!” The malice is ripped from Gir’s entire being. His face relaxes as a wet tongue sticks out to lick Dib’s hand. The pup dives between a pair of legs, smearing the carpet with mud. Good thing the couple decided against white. Despite hitting everything in his path, Gir charges into the kitchen with the pig above his head. Zim lets out another scream as the rapidly approaching hog kicks its muddy hooves. 

“No, no! The germs!” The latch on the window is jiggled by frantic hands. Zim cries out as Gir slams his body into the cabinets below. Still holding the pig high and proud, Gir struggles to jump onto the counter. His paws leave claw marks against the no longer smooth cedar wood. Before Zim can throw himself out of the window, Dib approaches with a bright orange bag in hand. The label reads  High Steaks  with a cartoon dog eating a red and white steak. 

“Gir, I’ll give you treats if you put the pig outside.” Gir stares at his master with the wild hog at his side. The animal still squeals and wiggles to free itself from the werewolf’s grip. Gir licks his nose with his eyes locked onto the orange, well, gray due to being colorblind, bag. After hearing the contents shake, Gir gives a toothy grin. 

“Okay! Bye, pig!” He slams the door open and throws the hog into the backyard. The pig tumbles into the tall grass and rolls for a few inches. Rising from the lawn, it races into the woods with audible grunts and snorts. Dib places several treats into Gir’s hands, where they are swept away by a drooling tongue. Zim, with his still rolled dress, steps down from the counter. A quick glance around the room sends him into a tantrum like no other. 

“Gir! Do you see the mess you’ve made? We were having a nice chat until your disgusting antics interrupted! Now, the house is a mess after Zim cleaned yesterday! Are you proud of yourself? Answer your master!” Zim takes a breath. A blind person can see the anger that shakes him to the core. The glare in his eyes stabs Gir in his heart. His perked ears tilt down as he takes a glance at the house. Every streak of mud makes him whine. He just wanted to show off his pig. Gir lowers his tail in shame. What a dumb dog he turned out to be. A paw raises to wipe at his eyes, but it has mud up to his elbow. He lets it fall instead. No point in making himself even dirtier. The pain in his eyes stabs Zim in his heart. Yelling does no good. It cannot change the state of the house, nor can it undo the previous events. A heavy sigh slips from him. He finds a clean spot on the floor and takes a knee. 

“I can’t blame you. You’re still just a pup. Why don’t I give you a nice bubble bath?” The sadness goes away without protest. Usually, the idea of a bath frightens Gir. Loud water filling the confining space around him with no escape. However, the toy submarine sitting under the sink has been calling his name. Not to mention the castle he can build out of bubbles. Maybe Gir will have a nice bath this time. His tail flings specks of dirt onto the wall as it wags. Zim grimaces, but he keeps a smile on his face. 

“Go get a towel while I change out of my nice clothes.” As Gir runs to the closet to find his superhero towel, Dib takes out the cleaning supplies. Zim unzips his gown and folds it into a neat square. He huffs at the rumpled mess that is Dib’s coat. He adjusts the black jacket so it will not have unsightly wrinkles. He feels something bump against his fingers, but his attention is caught by Dib handing him a shirt and sweatpants. The white button up and fitted pants Dib once wore are now a hoodie and old basketball shorts. Whatever lays in the pocket is long forgotten. 

“We’re gonna be here awhile. Is it okay if we only do part of the date I planned?” A candlelit dinner with a violinist in the background was the first half. Checking the time, their reservation has five minutes before being snatched by another couple. A shame. It took weeks of calling for Dib to finally receive a table. What can they do now? There is always next time. 

“Of course it is, my handsome Dib. I’m happy to have any kind of date with you.” The sweatpants are tied tight and the shirt hangs loose on Zim. Cherry lipstick and highlighter stains the collar. Sparkling flecks of silver shine down to his jaw. Red smudges blend into the green skin beneath his lips. Shaped eyeshadow and delicate mascara became a mess on his cheekbones and eyes. Beautiful is all Dib can think of. 

“Cool. I’ll get to work, querida.”

“Master! I got my towel!” 

“Coming, Gir! See you later, my love.” Zim imprints a kiss onto Dib’s cheek with a grin. The black vines are replaced by rubber gloves to protect his delicate stitches. Sad over wasting his good makeup, he tries to reshape the lipstick. The faded matte colors the rubber. A smile comes to his face regardless. Dib called him cute. 

After a laborious hour of cleaning and washing, the house can be put to rest. It took far too long to get the dirt out of the carpet. Especially when Dib had to follow each paw and hoof print along the floor. No matter. Every wall, floor, and chair is absent of mud. Zim came out of the bathroom not long ago, cradling a clean Gir in a towel. His fur curled like a poodle’s, which made the couple want several photos of their beloved werewolf. The moon rose without their knowledge, and their night of freedom dwindled away. To make use of their final hours, Dib led Zim and Gir into the forest. Both men kept their presents behind their back with a silent promise not to peek. A hill, that had Gir racing to the top, came to view. A blanket lays beneath the stars surrounded by candles. Each scent is a sweet dessert Zim is well known for greedily eating. Vanilla cupcake, gingerbread with icing, fresh brownies. All of his favorites. They take their place, laying close enough to hold hands and entwine legs. Slumber overcomes Gir, and he lays at their feet curled into a tight ball. 

”Here’s your gift, my mate.” A box wrapped in black paper with white lilies sits on Dib’s stomach. Without removing himself from his boyfriend, Dib struggles to rip the paper apart. A black claw raises to slice tape into shreds. Everything about those nails screams murder. If only Dib could get them to press against his neck. He wants to feel their stab into his senseless flesh. Fire and ice cannot hurt him, but deadly nails might prove otherwise. Finally sitting upright, Dib removes the protective lid hiding the contents. 

“No way. No fucking way!” Brown eyes go wide. The shock resonates through his body as Zim gives a light giggle at the excitement. Dib takes out his eyes and wipes them before popping the pair back in. Nothing inside has changed. A wide grin threatens to break the stitches along his face. One hand reaches down to take out a protected text written in Victorian English. His other removes an oak picture frame with a photo known by millions. His thumbs runs across the glass to be completely sure this is no dream. The ancient black and white photograph that sparked one of the greatest paranormal hunts of the century is there. The diligent filing of a Victorian officer stays in his hand. 

“You got me original photos of cryptids? Plus, Jack the Ripper reports? I thought these were kept locked up!” Dib wants to hug his boyfriend, but his hands are glued to the presents. His back tilts sideways with a twist to move closer to Zim. His ankle props his thigh for leverage as the awkward hug ensues. The position, to say the least, would have popped something in a living person. 

“Yes, well, the great Zim doesn’t let a few rules stop him from pleasing his Dib. Nearly had my arm ripped off, but it was worth it.” It was just his luck that his dress swished right into the tripwire. He should have worn his black jumpsuit for the journey. The security guard that night was awestruck by Zim’s dashing face, thankfully. So surprised and enamored, he fainted! A pretty face comes with too much responsibility. 

“Zim, I fucking love you.” Dib moves the presents out of his lap and untwists his body. He hears a joint pop somewhere near his rib, but that is the least of his concern. The couple give light laughs as their lips meet for the millionth and one time. No matter how many they share, each one has a spark like no other. Some bring back memories of their first date, others show a golden future laid out before them. 

“I love you, too, Dib-dear.” Bare knuckles run over his pale cheek before being captured in a kiss. Zim pushes Dib to sit upright so he can rest his head in his lap. Even after day’s catastrophe, his mused hair never changed. Time to change that. Zim picks up Dib’s right hand and places it on top of his head. The message is received, and each pat shifts black hair out of place. 

“No, no. I worship you. I want nothing more than to give you my everything. You’re my reason for existing.” Dib uses his clean hand to cup Zim’s face. How he adores him. From the slight curl in the black hair down to his sharp heels ready to stab a bitch. So beautiful. So perfect. So befitting of lavish riches. 

“Stop that. My mascara will run.” Zim fans his damp eyes. His emotions are too strong for his own good. Almost anything got a response out of him. Movies are at the top of the list. The past six have required Dib to act as a pillow while Zim sobbed his heart out. He takes ahold of the green hand to give it one more kiss. It will not be the last, but he makes sure Zim feels the extra love poured into it. 

“Let it run, mi amor. Because of you, I have meaning. I would’ve wandered aimlessly for decades if you weren’t here with me.” His hand goes for the lump in his pocket. Now or never, Dib repeats in his head. No matter the response, he will take it. It took weeks of phone calls with his sister while Zim was occupied to work up the courage. Something always tried to snatch this moment away, but here it is. Right before him, the decision that will define their love. 

“Since the day we met, I’ve been nothing but happy. I was driven mad with love just by thinking about you. I never thought another person could bring me such joy.” Dib takes a deep breath. He needs the pause for his own good. Zim almost speaks when he noticed the prolonged silence. A raised finger shuts his mouth, and he awaits for what entails. 

“Sure, we’ve had a rough patch and some fights, but I never stop thinking about how lucky I am to be with you.” His hand shakes as it comes out of his pocket. Dib lets out a weak laugh. No more waiting. Come on! He takes another deep breath, and the violet case comes into view. As he opens it, Zim gasps at what lies inside. The most precious locket, decorated with glimmering diamonds, rests upon black velveteen. The gems lay at the center of every rose connected to make a heart. 

“Which is why I must ask, will you marry me?” Zim bolts upright, which gave Dib a split second to avoid their heads hitting. He covers his mouth as mascara drips down his cheeks. He unlocks the heart, causing another outburst to erupt from Zim. Two pictures face each other. One of Dib, and one of Zim. Their longing stares into one another’s eyes are forever immortalized. 

“Oh, oh, Dib! Dib! I…Yes! Yes, of course!” Zimwas always an ugly crier. His puffy eyes earned much ridicule from onlookers. The loud sobs forced many to cover their ears to preserve their humanity. Not to mention how his face burned to an unsightly color. Anyone in their right mind would be ashamed to witness such an embarrassment. Good thing Dib was never in his right mind; dead or alive. He places the necklace around Zim’s neck, whose blurry eyes failed to find the gift. 

“It looks gorgeous on you, my bride.” Dib kisses away the tears, leaving his lips black with love. After several deep breaths, and a number of napkins, Zim climbs into Dib’s lap. He leans against his chest, and a sad smile appears when arms wrap around him. 

“You think so? I feel like a smudged mess.” The laugh dips into another sob before being subdued by the sixth napkin. Zim pats away the lipstick from his lips, leaving behind messy kisses. The mascara streaks stay no matter how many times he wipes. Dib presses a kiss to his forehead. His nose would twitch at the tickling white hairs if he could feel. 

“You’re beautiful regardless, querida.” Their lips lock once again with a spark like no other. Dib wants every kiss to feel this way. Invigorating. Electrifying. Sinful. In the city, where the bright sidewalks clutter with people, the clock strikes midnight. All the children are sound asleep. A few still in costume after hours of a rampant search for candy. Others dressed in pajamas dreaming of what flavor lollipop to try next. The days move on as the spirit of mischief dissolves. Worship for the unknown is put to rest. Celebrations for the deities that scare away vengeful creatures come to a close. Not here. Where Zim and Dib lay, beneath a sky of stars with couples mirroring them across galaxies, time holds still. Their clock sits at 11:59:59pm, and it has no motivation to move onward. Not when the magic is still fresh between them. 


End file.
